


Revolution

by Gooseberrybrains



Series: Resolution [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Background Character Death, Death Eaters, First War with Voldemort, Fix-It, Gen, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Minor Violence, POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black Fest 2020, Regulus Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23494066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gooseberrybrains/pseuds/Gooseberrybrains
Summary: Regulus Black was no stranger to duty or responsibility. In fact, he had done exactly what was expected of him all his life. Yet, that was the funny thing about doubt. Once it started creeping in, there was no stopping it until Regulus found himself questioning everything he had ever known.A Regulus lives AU.
Series: Resolution [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1445767
Comments: 30
Kudos: 171
Collections: Regulus Black Fest 2020





	Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a self-prompt, the whole idea being: what would happen if Regulus survived the cave? I admit, it took on a life of it's own and became about so much more than just that one premise.
> 
> Thanks so much to my fabulous betas, they were my rocks when I didn't think I could do it!
> 
> This is a prequel to the Resolution series though you don’t have to have read the other two first.

**November 10th, 1974**

**  
  
**

_My brother is an idiot_ , Regulus decided as he watched Sirius and his friends prance around like they hadn’t a care in the world. They were playing at some sort of ridiculous pantomime that most of the school seemed to find hilarious, but Regulus rather thought they looked like imbeciles. He narrowed his eyes as he watched them move toward him down the corridor. They weren’t speaking or opening their mouths at all, just flailing about making wild gestures with their arms. It was very peculiar indeed. He stepped out in front of them, folding his arms across his chest and putting on his well-practiced sneer. 

“I didn’t know the circus was in town!” He exclaimed with false enthusiasm. “Yet, there are a bunch of clowns in front me.”

Sirius growled and got right up in his face, but he didn’t say a word. Regulus could feel his breath puffing onto his skin. It smelled odd—sickly sweet and herbal somehow. He tipped his head to the side consideringly. 

“What’s the matter, brother? Got nothing to say?” he taunted. 

Sirius grabbed the front of his robes, and Regulus braced himself for a punch that didn’t come because then Potter was pulling him back and shaking his head, but still neither of them spoke. They pushed past him, and Regulus turned to watch as they continued down the hall, still gesturing silently at each other. They were definitely up to something, and he was going to figure it out. He was just as clever as his brother and a damn sight more subtle about things. 

**  
  
**

**October 17th, 1975**

**  
  
**

Regulus sat in the moonlight between the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the shore of the Black Lake. He listened for a moment to the leaves rustling and the water lapping against the rocks before tuning everything out and focusing his thoughts inward. He was _so_ close. He could feel it in the buzzing energy that seemed to ping off of every nerve ending inside him. _Breathe in. Breathe out._ He kept his thoughts on the magic like the book said, and felt it building until—

His eyes snapped open, and everything was different. The trees seemed larger, the sounds of the forest were louder, and his vision in the darkness was sharper. Regulus looked down at himself and saw grey fur covering narrow legs and clawed feet that looked a bit like a cross between paws and hands. He rose onto his hind legs, noting that he was probably only about a meter tall now. He had done it! He was an animagus! He twisted to try and get a view of his back and saw a bushy tail that was striped black and grey. He was… a raccoon? A chirp of outrage left his mouth before he was hurtled back into his human form as he lost his concentration. 

Regulus was on his hands and knees, panting with a mixture of magical exertion and surprise at the abrupt change. He sat back on his haunches and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “A fucking raccoon?” he muttered. “How am I going to sneak around as an animal that doesn’t even live in the UK?!”

He wondered what type of animal his brother had become? Something stupid and impractical, no doubt. Besides, raccoons were clever, resourceful creatures so perhaps it did suit him. He could make it work, he decided. He had still successfully become an animagus, and at only fourteen years old. Oh, how he wished he could rub it in his brother’s face, but he realized that this would be much more useful as a secret than as something to brag about. 

He made his way back up to the castle and into the dungeons, ducking behind a tapestry once to avoid Filch. The moment he walked into the Slytherin common room, Snape was accosting him. 

“Black, do you know what your brother and his friends are up to?” Snape demanded, grabbing Regulus by the arm. “There’s something not quite right with that Lupin, and I know they’re all in on it.”

Regulus looked disdainfully at the hand Snape had on his sleeve, before jerking his arm away. “I don’t waste my time on those blood traitors,” he sniffed. 

“Their behavior is highly suspicious,” Snape began again. 

Regulus scoffed. “Their behavior is quite idiotic, more like. I don’t see why you care what they’re doing anyway.” He stepped around Snape and headed toward the third year dorms. 

“They’re the enemy, Black!” Snape shouted after him. 

Regulus rolled his eyes and kept walking. For all of Snape’s talk, Regulus knew that it boiled down to jealousy. Sirius and his friends were close to Evans, and Snape couldn’t stand that despite what he said to the contrary. He supposed that he should probably keep an eye on Snape going forward. Men have been known to do terrible things in the name of jealousy, after all. 

**  
  
**

**April 14th 1976**

**  
  
**

Regulus was under a great deal of strain lately. Sirius and his friends were behaving worse than ever, deliberately inciting Snape and the other Slytherins every chance they had. Regulus had always done well at keeping his head down and avoiding trouble, but times were changing. He was no longer able to hide in the shadows, and soon he would have to pick a side. For now, he managed to keep himself busy between quidditch and his studies, though the run-ins with his brother were increasing, and his dorm mates were muttering more and more about taking action against the cocky Gryffindors. Despite the fact (or maybe because of it) that Sirius was pulling away from their family and seemed to hate them all— himself included— Regulus was worried about him. His brother was likely to find himself in trouble sooner rather than later if he kept up with that rash, reckless behavior, and it wasn’t as if he could talk some sense into him. 

In addition to all of that, Snape was positively unhinged with his desire to learn what Sirius and his friends were hiding. Regulus knew, of course, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Snape who had already proven that he couldn’t act rationally when Sirius, Potter, and Evans were involved. While Regulus did his best to persuade him that it wasn’t anything worth his time, Snape was convinced that discovering their secret would be the perfect way to get them all expelled. Regulus thought it was odd that Snape, who had likely been mistreated by his parents, could be so quick to trust another authority figure to do what was right. 

He was sitting in the common room by the fire, taking advantage of the silence as he read. He often stayed up late so that he could have the large space to himself. He had his pick of the seats, and no one lingered long enough to bother him. However, tonight he was startled by the door banging open and a disheveled figure stumbling through it. Regulus dropped his book in surprise and turned in his chair to better see who was causing the commotion. Snape was standing there wild-eyed and shaking and when he saw Regulus he staggered toward him pointing an accusing finger. 

“You!” Snape spat angrily. 

Regulus raised his eyebrows but he didn’t say anything. 

“Your brother tried to kill me!” Snape hissed. “All you Blacks are insane!”

Regulus crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Right now, the only one who appears insane is you.”

“Of course you defend him! Everyone does!” 

“I’m not defending him. My brother is an idiot, as I’ve often said, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Regulus said irritably. “You come in here insulting me and my family and meanwhile you look about one hippogriff short of a herd.”

Snape opened his mouth to retort before pausing consideringly. He made a visible effort to control his temper and stood up straighter, smoothing his greasy hair back down into its usual curtain. “He baited me into doing something that could have gotten me killed,” Snape said in a forcibly calm voice. 

Regulus groaned. “And you _let_ yourself be baited. My brother isn’t stupid for all that he plays the fool and acts rashly. You are too predictable, Snape! He knew what you would do and you played right into it! Clearly, it didn’t benefit you as you thought it would. You would be wise to learn some subtlety.”

“I don’t need advice from a fourth year,” Snape sneered. He swept up the stairs with as much dignity as he could muster, leaving Regulus watching him with amusement. 

Once Snape was out of sight, Regulus leaned forward to pick up his book. He found his page, but didn’t start reading right away. He wondered exactly what had occurred tonight. It was a full moon and so, it seemed likely that Sirius had tricked Snape into encountering Lupin in werewolf form, though that was exceptionally reckless behavior even for him. He made a mental note to try to keep a closer eye on his brother and settled himself further into the cushions of his armchair. 

**  
  
**

**May 29th, 1976**

**  
  
**

Regulus was deep in his revisions. He knew he needed top marks on his exams if he had any hope of being made a prefect next year. They currently had a break between the end of the year exams, and few students were spending time in the library. Most of the castle population seemed to be outside enjoying the weather, which suited Regulus just fine as it meant he could work in peace, or so he thought until a loud ruckus sounded from the grounds below. He had opened the window nearest his desk so he could enjoy the warm air, and now he stood up and moved to look outside. Typically, Potter and his brother were at the center of it, and they were harassing Snape yet again. He sighed in frustration, before turning back to the table to pack up his belongings. Was it really too much to ask for his brother to back off for a bit? The amount of damage control he was going to have to do now…

Regulus didn’t see Snape at all the rest of the day though he heard through the mutterings of his fellow Slytherins that he was camped outside the Gryffindor dormitories begging Evans to forgive him. Regulus would likely have to deal with that too, he thought, but right now he was trying to orchestrate an accidental meeting with his brother. It was dinner time, and most of the student body was in the Great Hall, though he was outside the large doors waiting for the right moment. 

One of the advantages of being an animagus was the enhanced senses even while still a human. This meant that, among other things, his hearing was much sharper, allowing him to stand a distance away and still hear who was about to leave the dining hall. He was leaning against the wall, looking as disinterested as he could manage until he heard a familiar bark of laughter and then Potter’s boisterous voice coming closer to the doors. Regulus pushed himself off of the wall and began walking toward the doors when they swung open, and he collided rather violently with his brother. 

“Hey, watch it!” Sirius shouted in surprise before he saw Regulus looking up at him. “Reg, what the fuck?”

Regulus let the practiced sneer fall into place as he watched his brother. “Don’t you pay attention to anything outside of your little bubble?”

Sirius’ face darkened immediately and his friends seemed to automatically close in ranks around him. “I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about having friends.”

Regulus didn’t try to ignore the pang of hurt that hit him in the chest. Instead, he lunged forward and grabbed Sirius by the front of his robes, yanking him close. “You better watch your back, brother. If you keep acting like a brash Gryffindor, you’re going to end up in over your head.”

Sirius shoved at him angrily. “You little prick!”

“I mean it, Sirius!” Regulus yelled. “Be smart for once in your life!”

Sirius and his friends pushed past him, with Potter banging hard into his shoulder as they went. Regulus watched them leave, the churning in his stomach only matched by the sting in his eyes. 

**  
  
**

**May 30th, 1976**

**  
  
**

Snape was sitting in the hall looking bleary-eyed when Regulus found him in the early morning hours. He sighed and grabbed Snape by the arm, hauling him to his feet and leading him down the corridor. Snape put up no resistance, allowing Regulus to direct him like a puppet. He stopped once they reached a painting of fruit on the ground floor. Regulus let go of Snape to tickle the pear and then pushed him inside the door that opened into the kitchens. The house elves greeted them enthusiastically as he steered Snape to a table and pushed him down onto the bench. He requested tea and scones from the eager elves and then turned his attention to the boy in front of him. Snape looked as if he had been up all night. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and his hair looked even more oily and unkempt than usual. 

Regulus sighed. “Snape.” He didn’t receive a response or any reaction at all for that matter. “Snape,” he said again. Still no indication that Snape had even heard him. He leaned forward, his arms braced on the table. “Severus.”

Snape’s eyes snapped to his in an instant and Regulus pushed a cup of tea in front of him. “I don’t have any whiskey, I’m afraid, so this will have to do.”

Snape took the cup in shaking hands but he didn’t drink from it right away. “She won’t forgive me,” he whispered. 

Regulus frowned at him. “It’s for the best anyway. You know you can’t keep appearing friendly with a Mudblood. Just as I can’t show any love for my blood-traitor of a brother.”

Snape scowled and took a sip of his tea. “You know nothing.”

“I know more than you think,” Regulus said with a shrug. “And there have been a lot of whispers about you hanging around with Evans. Plenty of the older Slytherins were talking about putting an end to it.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Believe me— she’s safer this way.”

“What are you saying?” Snape asked sharply. 

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I know you are preoccupied playing the part of the misfit potions nerd, but surely you’ve heard the rumors. The Dark Lord Voldemort has been gaining more and more power and his foothold within the Sacred Twenty-Eight is increasing. There are those who have vowed to serve him, and some of them are students, or parents of students. They are watching, looking for more potential recruits, and marking their enemies.” He took a sip of his tea before looking at Snape with a grave expression. “Just who do you think they’re looking at? People like Evans and Sirius? They’ll be first on the list. If you truly want to keep her safe, you need to do what’s expected of you.”

Snape smiled bitterly. “Some are free to make their own choices, and others only have the illusion of freedom before it is pulled from them.”

“Yes, that is about the sum of it,” Regulus agreed. 

**  
  
**

**August 25th, 1976**

**  
  
**

Regulus was in despair. Sirius was gone, having taken off for good to the Potters’ home. He understood why his brother didn’t want to stay, but that didn’t stop him from being angry about it. He couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Why was it that Sirius got to do whatever he liked, and Regulus was the one left playing the dutiful son? They would truly be on opposite sides now, and it was that knowledge more than anything that made Regulus feel sick. Grimmauld Place felt oddly cavernous without his brother in it. Perhaps it was the silence. There wasn’t any yelling, no slamming doors, and no arguments. Just a tomb-like quiet that had fallen over the house in Sirius’ absence. 

Regulus received his Hogwarts list that morning, and it had included a shiny prefect’s badge. His mother hadn’t stopped gushing about it since, and she insisted on having a dinner party tonight to celebrate. Before Regulus could even think to protest, she had commanded Kreacher to prepare a feast and sent out invitations. 

This was how he ended up sitting in the formal dining room wearing stuffy dress robes and sitting at the table with all the Blacks. His parents were there of course, but so was his Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella, along with Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus, and Narcissa and her husband Lucius. Narcissa was seated next to him which made it a bit more bearable as he had always gotten on well with her despite their age difference. 

“Our Regulus is so clever,” his mother gushed for the umpteenth time. “He’ll make a proper heir to the Black family soon enough.”

Regulus cringed inwardly, wanting to refute the claim, to insist that Sirius was the heir, not him. But Sirius had been disinherited, and Regulus was on his own. 

Cygnus grunted in what Regulus guessed was supposed to be an affirmative. “The boy has proven himself to be a hard worker, but he will still need to prove himself loyal to the cause.”

His mother sniffed. “He will certainly do so when the time comes. Our Regulus is nothing but obedient.”

“Unlike the _other_ one,” Bellatrix said with a snort. 

His father slammed his fist on the table. “We will not speak of him in this house!”

Bella tipped her chin down to hide a smile. “Sorry Uncle.”

Lucius took a sip from his goblet and cleared his throat. “The Dark Lord has expressed great interest in gaining the Black heir for his ranks.” He looked directly at Regulus. “He has high hopes for you.”

“And I am eager to prove myself,” Regulus said, nodding his head solemnly. 

Narcissa found his hand under the table and squeezed it briefly. “So, what are your plans for school this year, Reggie?”

He was grateful for the change of subject and launched into a description of the classes he would continue taking for his O.W.L.s and his anticipation for the quidditch season. It was a far sight easier to talk about the mundane things and pretend, if only for a little while, that he was a normal fifteen-year-old. 

**  
  
**

**September 30th, 1976**

**  
  
**

“Severus, I’m warning you— do not speak of this again,” Regulus hissed. 

Severus scoffed and crossed his arms indignantly. “And why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t forget that I am the only friend you have,” Regulus said, leaning forward in his chair. “I leave Evans alone and you leave Sirius alone. That’s our deal.”

Severus scowled and sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

Regulus held his gaze for another minute before deciding he was satisfied. He pushed his potions text across the table. “Good. Now help me with this theory.”

Severus rolled his eyes, but he pulled out his notes and flipped through the pages before landing on a series of sketches and charts. There was no denying the brilliance Severus had with potions, and though Regulus did quite well in most subjects on his own, he wasn’t fool enough to turn his nose up at help from a natural talent. 

They spent an hour going over Regulus’ Potions homework, with Severus scribbling furiously on pieces of parchment and scoffing over the information in the book. Regulus then, in turn, assisted Severus with his Transfiguration assignment, having no trouble with it despite the fact that it was a year ahead of his own studies. 

They parted ways in late afternoon because Regulus had Quidditch practice, something that he thought Severus was quite jealous of though the boy had never said. It was more in the way his face pinched when Regulus mentioned practice or the house team. It was common knowledge among the Slytherins that Severus didn’t have money and he likely couldn’t afford a decent broom in order to try out for the team. Of course, Regulus also thought that his surly nature probably didn’t do him any favors either. 

Regulus walked leisurely down toward the pitch, but he paused about halfway there. There were sounds coming from shrubs near Greenhouse Three, likely a couple looking for a quiet place to snog. He almost kept walking until he heard a very familiar bark of laughter. His mind immediately went back to what Severus had been saying earlier, and he dropped his broom and clenched his fists, striding forward angrily. Regulus rounded the corner of the glass structure and grabbed a fistful of fabric, not bothering to see who it was first. There was a startled shout as the boy stumbled back with the unexpected force, and then two sets of eyes were on him, one looking stunned and embarrassed and the other full of fury. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Reg?!” Sirius yelled, advancing on him. 

“As usual, I’m looking out for your ass since you seem so determined to be careless with your life!” Regulus said, trying his best to keep his own anger reigned in. He turned to the other boy, a Hufflepuff he didn’t recognize. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The Hufflepuff didn’t argue, he just took off running back up to the castle. Regulus never took his eyes off of his brother, who was now close enough to touch him, but so far managed to keep his hands to himself. 

“What are you talking about?” Sirius asked, his voice trembling. 

Regulus snorted. “You’re hardly being discreet, brother. You’ve been seen, and if you aren’t careful, word is going to get back to the wrong people. You already have a price on your head for abandoning our family and hanging around with that riff-raff you’re friends with.”

Sirius grabbed him by the front of his Quidditch robes and hauled him up until his feet were nearly off of the ground. “Fuck you, Reg! You’re nothing but a boot-licking asshole that’s too cowardly to do the right thing.” Sirius shoved him away so hard that Regulus was unable to keep his feet beneath himself, and he fell hard onto his backside. He looked up as his brother towered over him, and then spit on the ground in front of him. “You are just like the rest of them,” Sirius hissed before turning his back and walking away. 

Regulus watched him go from his prone position in the grass before getting to his feet and dusting himself off. He picked up his discarded broom and walked in the opposite direction from both the castle and the quidditch pitch. 

**  
  
**

**April 4th, 1977**

**  
  
**

Regulus was having a nice relaxing evening— or he had been until he stepped foot back inside the Slytherin common room. It was late, and he hadn’t expected to be greeted by so many people, but there was a cluster of upper-year Slytherins gathered in the chairs around the fireplace. He stopped just inside the door, trying to decide what the best course of action was. 

“Hey, Black, good timing,” Avery, a seventh year, said. “We were wondering where you were.” 

Regulus strode over to the group, doing his best to look confident yet disinterested. He scanned their faces and knew what this was about before anyone said anything. He was looking at the oldest, most influential purebloods in Slytherin House, most of whom belonged to the Sacred Twenty-Eight and whose families were well known (in certain circles) for practicing the Dark Arts. These families were also avid supporters of the Dark Lord, and with the whispers growing stronger every day, Regulus had been anticipating this. Not that he was willing to be the first to mention it nor admit anything. 

“It’s common knowledge that the Black family have long been following the cause and have the Wizarding World’s best interest in mind. It’s become more and more important, and a new power has been looking for support as I’m sure you know,” Avery began.

Regulus gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I have heard several members of my family speak of it,” he agreed. 

“The more the news travels, the more the blood traitors and Mudbloods muster support against our cause,” another seventh year named Rookwood grumbled. 

“Which is why,” Avery continued with a glare at Rookwood for the interruption, “the Dark Lord is looking for more wizards to help cement his vision for the future. He especially wants the prestigious families, though he is happy to have anyone who supports his cause.”

Regulus nodded. “I’m sure there is a wealth of students here that cannot wait to join his ranks. I, for one, would be happy to do so once I’m of age.”

“Of age!” Rookwood snorted, shaking his head. “As if the Dark Lord is bothered about such things.”

Regulus did his best to ignore the block of ice that seemed to fall into his stomach at these words. His eyes flickered to Severus for a moment, who was staring back at him with dark, fathomless eyes. The only hint of what his friend was feeling was in the tightness of his jaw, and he didn’t dare dwell on it. Regulus cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. “I’m sorry, I just assumed that the Dark Lord wouldn’t be interested in a fifteen-year-old that hasn’t learned all of his spells yet.”

Avery laughed. “As if they teach us the sort of spells we need here! The Dark Lord doesn’t care if we’ve taken our N.E.W.T.s, and besides, he says there is value in having loyalty inside the walls of Hogwarts.”

“Of course.” Regulus forced the words out with difficulty, as his tongue currently felt like it was stuck in his throat. “I’m willing to do whatever is required of me when the time comes. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

He walked as casually as he could manage to his dorm before shutting himself inside the bathroom. He had never been so relieved to be alone as he found himself very suddenly and violently sick. 

**  
  
**

**April 26th, 1977**

**  
  
**

Easter holidays were over, and most of the students appeared chagrined to be back at school after two weeks off. Regulus couldn’t say that he had particularly enjoyed his time at home. His mother had gushed on and on about ‘her proper boy’, while his father had mostly spoken only gruff and vaguely threatening phrases under his breath. He felt tense the entire time he was there, and each family dinner was more excruciating than the last. He lost track of how many times he had cursed Sirius for leaving him alone in that depressing house. The worst part was that he didn’t even feel any better now that he was back at school. He still had to appear as the consummate pureblooded Slytherin to keep his image infallible. 

Regulus navigated through the throng of students and was on his way to the library when an arm shot out and grabbed onto his robes, yanking him into an empty classroom. Severus released him and cast a quick _muffilato_ around them before sealing the door. 

“What are you doing?” Regulus hissed, straightening his robes with indignation. 

Severus didn’t answer him. He just tugged the sleeve on his left arm up, exposing a dark, angry looking brand. It was one that Regulus didn’t need any help identifying. He had seen it worn proudly on Bellatrix’s arm several times this last week alone. His gaze darted up to meet his friend’s, who seemed both determined and resigned. Regulus didn’t know what to say. It was a fate they both knew was coming, but this was so much faster than either of them had ever imagined. 

“Maybe I can keep her safe this way,” Severus murmured. 

Regulus bowed his head. “She will never forgive you this, as Sirius will never forgive me.”

“They have long since rejected us,” Severus said vehemently, pulling his sleeve down. “It’s been years since either of us have fit into their lives. This is the only way we have any hope of protecting them.”

Regulus sighed and forced a breath against the ever-present tightness in his chest. “You’re right, of course.”

**  
  
**

**July 1st, 1977**

**  
  
**

He knew he’d end up here. There was really never any question about it, though Regulus had hoped that he would be able to put it off longer, it seemed his time had run out. The Dark Lord cared little what age his followers were, only of what use they could be to him. Regulus, it turned out, was very useful by his name alone. He wanted the important pureblooded families. He wanted loyal young men willing to do as he commanded for the cause, and Regulus suspected he wanted them when they were too young to realize the depth of what they were involving themselves in. Regulus was clever and while he had a very good idea what that was, it didn’t matter. He grew up being a pawn for his parents to use, and now he would be one for the Dark Lord as well.

So here he was, sixteen for less than a month and preparing to be initiated. It was dusk and he was standing in a small clearing with nearly fifty people clothed in black robes and masks covering their faces so completely that he couldn’t identify any of them even though he knew several. He was grouped with a handful of other boys his own age, all of which he recognized from Hogwarts either as his dorm mates or his classmates. Regulus clenched his jaw as he watched a Ravenclaw boy raise his sleeve and offer his arm to the Dark Lord. He fought the urge to look away as the boy screamed in pain while the mark was branded into his skin. Severus had already done this and he had gotten through it. Regulus repeated that to himself as he waited for his own turn to come.

After several agonizing minutes, he was pushed forward by one of the masked men standing behind him. Regulus barely kept himself from stumbling over the hem of his robes, and then he was face to face with the Dark Lord. He immediately ducked his head and dropped to his knees, showing the proper amount of respect with the added bonus of not having to look the man in the eye. 

“You’re the Black heir,” the Dark Lord said. 

Regulus nodded, but he didn’t raise his head or stand. “Yes, sir.”

“You may rise.”

Regulus stood on shaky legs with his chin tucked and his eyes cast downward. Sharp, bony fingers grasped his jaw and lifted his face until he found himself staring into the red eyes of the Dark Lord. There was something distinctly inhuman about his appearance. His skin was pale and waxy, his cheekbones way too pronounced, and his eyes a gleaming, unnatural red. He fought the urge to pull his face away, though his entire body was screaming with it. He also did his best to keep his mind clear of these thoughts knowing that the Dark Lord was said to be an accomplished Legilimens. 

“You are afraid,” the Dark Lord stated, narrowing his eyes. 

“Yes, my Lord,” Regulus admitted. “While I am eager for the opportunity, I do not wish to let you nor my family down.”

The Dark Lord pursed his lips and released his hold. “You do have rather a lot to prove, don’t you? Especially after that blood-traitor filth of a brother. The Black family has been very highly respected for centuries and it would be a shame for that to burn out with this current generation.”

“Precisely, my Lord,” Regulus agreed. “It wouldn’t do to allow that to happen.”

The Dark Lord smiled then but there was no mirth in it, just a satisfied cruelty that chilled Regulus to his bones. “Present your arm, boy.”

Regulus pulled up his sleeve with trembling fingers and lifted his left arm. The Dark Lord dug the fingers of one hand into his wrist, pulling Regulus closer before pressing the tip of his wand into the flesh of his forearm. The burn seemed to travel from his skin through his muscle and deep into his blood and bones. He tried not to cry out at first, biting his lip until he tasted blood, but soon he was screaming anyway, raw and ragged and ripped unwillingly from his throat.

**  
  
**

**August 6th, 1977**

**  
  
**

It might have been his first raid, but Regulus was sure none of it was going to plan. Not that he had been informed of the plan, but he doubted it was supposed to involve ducking curses from members of the Order when they were meant to be attacking a muggle village. The Order had gotten wind of it somehow, or someone had been followed. All he knew was that he felt rather overwhelmed as he dove for cover behind the remains of a shed. The night sky was lit up with orange flames and the smoke was so thick he was having trouble identifying friend from foe— not that he would call any of these men his friends aside from perhaps Severus (as prickly as he was). Regulus made a frustrated noise, and with a quick look around to ensure no one was watching him, he changed into his raccoon form and scampered off toward the tree line. He still couldn’t make much out through the smoke even with his keen eyesight, but he could smell people. He honed in on Severus rather quickly, pungent as he was, and began running toward him. Regulus changed back just as he was nearing him, right in time to deflect a spell aimed at his friend’s back. Severus glanced up at him in surprise, his black eyes glittering from behind his mask. They fought side by side now, not managing to do much more than defend themselves against the onslaught until finally they heard the call to retreat. 

Voldemort was furious. He paced back and forth in front of his Death Eaters as they eyed him with trepidation, some of them flinching back when he spun on them. 

“This is unacceptable!” he roared. “How did those Mudbloods and blood-traitors know where to find us?” He flicked his wand at the Death Eater closest to him. “ _Crucio!”_

The man fell screaming to the ground as the others nearby shifted subtly away from him, behaving as though they didn’t hear his pleas. Regulus felt the fear coiling in his gut once again, and he noticed Severus shift uneasily beside him. 

“Mulciber!” the Dark Lord snapped. “Come here.”

The Death Eaters parted to let a single man through the crowd. He removed his mask and bowed low in front of his master. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Were you followed after finishing the errand I requested of you? Did you speak of the plan where others might hear?” Voldemort demanded. 

Mulciber shook his head vehemently. “No, my Lord. I was very careful.”

The Dark Lord’s hand shot out, and he gripped Mulciber by his chin, forcing eye contact. He said nothing, but Mulciber’s limbs jerked and his fists were tightly clenched. When the Dark Lord released him, he slumped bonelessly to the ground, unconscious. 

“I expect all of you to take great care when entrusted with a task,” Voldemort said, addressing the group. “If I find that any of you have been negligent with information, you will be punished and if you betray me, you won’t live to regret it.”

**  
  
**

**September 10th, 1977**

**  
  
  
**

“It’s not about whether or not we intend to betray _him,_ ” Regulus insisted. “While we might be used to hiding our thoughts, it is impossible to not think them at all. This is necessary insurance.”

Severus inclined his head. “You make a good point.”

“As usual,” Regulus snorted, folding his arms across his chest. 

Severus rolled his eyes and slid a book from the stack on their shared table. “It’s going to take some time to learn this proficiently with nothing but library books.”

“I might be able to find something in the family library when I go home for hols,” Regulus said slowly. 

“You should take some Dark Arts books while you’re there. Merlin knows your family should have plenty,” Severus murmured, scribbling on a piece of parchment. 

Regulus frowned as he watched Severus copy information from the book in front of him. “Why is that necessary?”

Severus looked up at him in disbelief. “In case it escaped your attention this summer, we are woefully inadequate with our fighting skills. If we expect to survive this, we will need more than just _defensive_ magic.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” Regulus conceded. “But we’ll need to be careful. If we get caught with those books, it will be our necks.” He rubbed his forearm absently as he spoke, stopping when Severus caught the gesture and narrowed his eyes. He cleared his throat and pulled a book forward to start reading, grateful when Severus didn’t say anything further. 

**  
  
**

**January 7th, 1978**

**  
  
**

Their foray into Occlumency had been going slowly with guidance only from the Hogwarts library books. However, Regulus thought he had found something in the Black family library that would make all the difference. His parents had even been happy to let him have free reign of the books once he had told them he was doing research to further his usefulness to the Dark Lord. 

Regulus thought he had a good handle on the Occlumency meditations since he had an advantage from doing similar techniques for the Animagus transformation, but it was hard to know for sure without being able to test it. Which, of course, was why Severus was meeting him in an empty classroom in the middle of the night. 

He was pacing in front of the rows of desks as he waited, feeling apprehensive about the whole idea. They might be friends, but there were still many things that he didn’t wish to share. Still, he had wracked his brain trying to come up with an alternative, only there didn’t seem to be one. He would just have to get this right first try. 

Severus swept into the room with his usual dramatics, flicking his wand to lock the door behind him before casting privacy spells in quick succession. “You found something?” he asked without preamble. 

Regulus nodded and reached into his satchel. “I found exactly what we need, but you aren’t going to like it.” 

Severus took the book offered to him, and his perpetual frown deepened as he flipped through it. “You realize what this will mean?”

“Yes, but I don’t see any other way to test our abilities. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait until I’m in a pinch to find out if I’m doing it properly,” Regulus said, sounding much more confident than he actually felt. 

Severus dropped the book on the nearest desk and straightened his spine. “I’m assuming you’ve studied this already and know how to do the spell?”

“Well, I know the theory, but that’s no guarantee that I’ll get it right first try,” he said with a shrug. 

Severus sighed. “Very well, but anything we learn incidentally is never to be spoken of.”

“Of course,” Regulus agreed quickly. He raised his wand and waited for Severus’ nod. “ _Legilimens!”_ He felt a brief resistance before it snapped like an elastic band, and then he was tumbling through memories.

Regulus was in a small dingy kitchen. There was a broad, hook-nosed man with red cheeks screaming and shaking a frail-looking woman. She cried and pleaded with him, but he showed her no mercy. There was a small boy huddled under a rickety table with tears streaming down his cheeks. His arms were wrapped around his bent legs and he flinched with every whimper the woman let out.

The image spun away, and then he was at a playground where a scrawny and awkward-looking boy of about nine or ten was sitting against a tree. There were two girls standing a few yards away, a redhead who was obviously a young Lily Evans and another horse-faced girl with dark hair.

“You shouldn’t talk to him, Lily,” the dark-haired girl said. “He’s weird, and he looks like he smells.” She sniffed and turned her nose up when Lily just rolled her eyes and approached him anyway.

The green grass and blue sky dissolved into stone walls and a portrait of a fat lady wearing a pink dress. Severus, looking only a bit younger than he currently did, was slumped against the wall pleading with the fat lady. 

Suddenly, the world heaved around Regulus, and he was ejected from Severus’ memories as quickly as he had entered them. Back in the empty classroom, they were both breathing heavily from the magical exertion, but Severus also looked livid.

“I think I’ve had quite enough of that for now,” he hissed, snatching the book on Legilimency off of the desk and sweeping back out of the room with it.

**  
  
**

**January 13th, 1978**

**  
  
**

Regulus was thirteen years old and he was sitting with his back against his closed bedroom door, but he could hear his mother screaming at Sirius up two flights of stairs. His mother used him as an example as she cut down his brother. Sirius screamed back because he always did, and Regulus didn’t want to hear anymore. He pressed his hands over his ears and prayed for the yelling to stop. He heard the sharp slap of what was likely a hand meeting delicate flesh, but Sirius didn’t cry out. Regulus stayed quiet and very still and hoped that he didn’t get called downstairs.

Everything wavered and he was younger now, ten years old and tears were filling his eyes as he watched his brother board the train. His mother’s hand felt like a lead weight on his shoulder. He didn’t know how he would survive the year alone in that house with his parents. Sirius never even looked back to wave goodbye. 

Regulus felt a prodding in his mind then and anger swelled inside of him, but it wasn’t enough to push away the intrusion. He fell into another memory, this one from just last year when he had confronted Sirius behind the greenhouses. His brother was yelling at him, and he felt all the hurt and rejection as if it were brand new. A strength that he hadn’t been able to find before came shooting to the surface, and he pushed Severus from his mind as easily as swatting a fly.

When Regulus returned to the present, Severus was looking up at him in astonishment from where he sat on his backside. “Your eyes,” he said in a low voice. 

Regulus frowned at him, even as he reached out a hand to help him up. “What about them?”

Severus accepted his hand, and once on his feet, he conjured a hand mirror. “See for yourself. I don’t think I can properly explain.”

Regulus took the mirror with some trepidation, unsure what he would see. He didn’t _feel_ any different. Still, his mouth dropped open in shock when he saw his reflection. His grey eyes looked frosted over— like the pattern of ice across glass. He raised his gaze back up to meet Severus’. “What the fuck is this?”

Severus shook his head. “I don’t remember reading about it.”

“Well, I can’t walk around like this!” Regulus exclaimed, starting to feel a bit hysterical. 

Severus rolled his eyes. “Obviously.” He moved back to the desk where they had left their reference books. “There must be something about it in here. We’ll find it.”

They each flipped through a book until Regulus found a passage in an Occlumency book taken from the library. In the section titled _Building Your Wall_ , there was a passage that explained a rare phenomenon that occurred when someone with great ability was able to successfully hone their skill. Regulus read this part out loud to Severus, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, _of course_ , you would have a special ability,” he said, crossing his arms. 

“This is serious!” Regulus protested. “What if it doesn’t go away?! How am I supposed to go to class or face the Dark Lord looking like this?”

Severus was still scowling, but he heaved a defeated sigh. “Surely, you can hide in your dorm for a couple of days. Say you’re sick, and we will keep researching to see if we can find an answer.”

**  
  
**

**March 2nd, 1978**

**  
  
**

Thankfully, it turned out that Regulus’ frosty eyes were only a temporary effect of his new Occlumency skill. The wall of ice he had created, however, was more permanent. He found that it took very little conscious effort to keep it in place, and while it was there, Severus couldn’t break through— a fact that he was quite bitter about.

Severus had managed to create his own shields after another few practice sessions, much to his chagrin and Regulus’ guilt over seeing more intimate memories. While he didn’t seem to have the innate ability that Regulus did, he now possessed an effective barrier for keeping unwanted intrusions from his mind. 

The opportunity to test this skill presented itself when Regulus bumped into Dumbledore after classes one afternoon. While Regulus had been occupied with his own thoughts, he always paid attention to his surroundings, so when Dumbledore stepped out from around a corner and directly into his path, he couldn’t help but feel that it had been very deliberately orchestrated. 

“Ah, the younger Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said cheerfully, paying no mind to the scowl on Regulus’ face.

“Professor,” he said, eyeing him warily.

Dumbledore beamed at him. “How are your studies going?” 

“Quite well, sir,” Regulus answered, not bothering to hide his confusion. 

“Good, good.” Dumbledore said with a nod. “Of course, I’m sure you have already begun preparing for your N.E.W.T.s.”

Regulus was beginning to wonder why he was stuck having this inane conversation when he felt a subtle nudging in his mind. His entire body stiffened with the realization that Dumbledore was trying to pry his way into his thoughts. He took a deep breath before responding. “Obviously, I have been putting a lot of thought into my N.E.W.T.s already, as any proper prefect should be.” He pushed images of himself studying through his shields, peppered with the desire to become Head Boy. After all, this was the perfect opportunity to see if he could wield the Occlumency so skillfully that it was undetectable. 

“Well, my boy, that’s good to hear,” Dumbledore said, clapping his hands. “I won’t detain you any longer.” 

Regulus nodded and started to walk around him when he heard Dumbledore call out one more time.

“Oh, one more thing, Mr. Black.”

“Yes, sir?” Regulus responded, turning back to face the old professor.

“Do try to take care of yourself.” Dumbledore’s gaze was piercing, and his usual joyful expression was gone.

Regulus nodded, feeling any response he could have made choke off in his throat. He turned and hurried down the hall back toward the common room and to find Severus.

**  
  
**

**May 21st, 1978**

**  
  
**

The school year was almost at an end, and with it, the seventh years would be leaving the castle for good. Regulus was very aware that he would be losing a great deal with the ‘78 commencement. Not only would Severus be joining the Death Eaters full time, but there was a very good chance that Regulus would never see his brother again unless it was across a battlefield. Sirius had made no secret what side he intended to fight on. It was the same for that entire group of Gryffindors he was friends with. Regulus could only hope that Lupin would be able to keep his brother in line, otherwise, he was sure to get himself killed with his constant rash behavior. 

He knew that nothing good could possibly come from cornering Sirius again. Their last few encounters certainly hadn’t gone well, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted a chance to say goodbye. Because of this, Regulus found himself hurrying after Sirius and his friends when they left the Great Hall after dinner that night. It was nearly impossible to get him alone as he was always with his friends. 

Regulus jogged down the corridor in the direction of Gryffindor tower, calling out to his brother when he caught sight of him as he turned a corner. Sirius and his friends all stopped and turned as if they were a singular unit. 

A dark frown settled over his brother’s face as he looked at Regulus. “I have nothing to say to you,” he spat before beginning to turn away.

“Wait!” Regulus called out, running to Sirius and grasping him by the arm. “I want to talk to you.”

Sirius spun on him startlingly fast. Regulus was knocked back by a hard shove and found himself being held in a tight grip before he could regain his balance. Potter had his arms pinned behind his back, and though he struggled to free himself, it was in vain. 

Regulus lifted his chin defiantly. “Are you going to hit me, brother?” 

Sirius’ hands were certainly balled into fists at his sides as he closed the distance between them. He grabbed Regulus’ collar in his left hand, his right hand raising behind him as if pulling back for a punch, but it never came because then Lupin was there, resting a gentle hand on Sirius' shoulder. Sirius dropped his hands and regarded Regulus with a disdainful look. “You aren’t worth the effort,” he said quietly, before turning and walking away. 

Lupin and Pettigrew followed behind him, and Potter shoved Regulus away forcefully, causing him to stumble on his robes and hit his knees hard on the flagstone. He didn’t get up right away. Instead, he knelt in the deserted corridor, feeling more hopeless than he had ever felt in his life.

**  
  
**

**June 20th, 1978**

**  
  
  
**

It was the first full-fledged Death Eater meeting Regulus had been to since school ended for the year. Much to his relief, this seemed to be a tactics meeting more than a raid, and so he was at least spared from having to fight this time. 

The Dark Lord was standing before them all, behaving as if he were a king holding court. “There are those who oppose us,” Voldemort said as he paced in front of them. “But they don’t understand how futile their effort is. I have taken great pains to make sure that I am more powerful than any mere wizard, and as such, I am undefeatable.” He gestured to the Death Eaters scattered around him. “You are my enforcers, my warriors, and there has never been a more worthy cause than the one we are fighting for.” He turned and gestured to a Death Eater standing near the entrance to the room. The man left with a quick nod, and the Dark Lord looked back into the crowd. “Now, I think it’s time to test our newer recruits.”

Regulus found himself being pushed toward the front of the room by many different hands on his back. Severus and a handful of young, newly marked Death Eaters were jostled alongside him. The hands fell away once he found himself a short distance from the Dark Lord. The room quieted as the rustling cloaks and shuffling feet stilled once people found their places. He could hear a faint whimpering that grew louder and louder until it sounded like a full-blown wail. A Death Eater reappeared in the doorway with a girl, shoving her roughly into the room. She stumbled and fell, landing on her hands and knees in the middle of the marble floor. Her dirty blonde hair was hanging down and obscuring her face, but then she looked up, and Regulus felt his blood run cold. He _knew_ her. She had graduated from Hogwarts just last month, along with his brother and Severus. A Hufflepuff, he thought, named Fawcett. She was a Mudblood, he knew, but somehow he had never expected to see one of his schoolmates here like this. 

Voldemort stepped forward and spread his arms wide. “A gift for you, my young followers, to do with what you will.”

The girl started sobbing and pleading in earnest now. “Please… let me go!” she shrieked as the Death Eaters around Regulus started moving forward to surround her with their wands drawn. 

Regulus felt like his heart had plummeted into his stomach. He knew what would happen to this girl, what the Dark Lord _expected_ to happen, and he didn’t think he could bear to be a part of it. He resolutely pushed forward through the circle of Death Eaters, some of whom had already begun casting curses. The girl was screaming in pain and terror until Regulus drew his own wand and silenced her forever with a slice of green light. 

The quiet that followed was deafening. Her limp body fell into a lifeless heap, and every face in the room turned to look at him in surprise. Regulus lifted his chin and straightened his spine, refusing to cower or seem weak under the scrutiny. 

“Regulus,” the Dark Lord said, beckoning to him. “Come to me.”

Regulus walked forward woodenly and bowed low in front of his master. “My Lord.”

“Look at me,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Why did you kill the girl so quickly?”

Regulus straightened and met that red gaze unflinchingly. “She was filth, unworthy of anything but death,” he answered, making sure to push forward thoughts that mirrored his words. 

Voldemort watched him for a moment longer before a cruel smile curled his lips. “You are very eager, young Black. Still, I advise you to let yourself have a little fun now and again. What good are the Mudbloods, if not to play with?”

“Of course, my Lord. I will work on that,” Regulus said, bowing again. 

The Dark Lord nodded and waved a hand, dismissing him. “We’re done for tonight, I think.”

One by one, the Death Eaters began disapparating, and Regulus followed suit, reappearing in a dark alley in Muggle London. He fell to his knees, ripping the mask from his face and retched— trembling and heaving as the dead eyes of the Hufflepuff girl looked up at him in his mind’s eye.

Regulus was vaguely aware of the crack of apparition behind him, and he staggered to his feet as a snide voice spoke. 

“Well, that was spectacularly rash behavior for you,” Severus said. “I thought you were supposed to be the brother with some sense. You do realize it could have been your head for that.”

Regulus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at Severus. “We _knew_ her, Severus. That could just as easily have been Evans!”

Severus shook his head. “No, the Dark Lord promised me he would leave her be.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Regulus scoffed. “He will only keep his word for as long as it suits him to do so.”

“And she is in danger either way!” Severus shouted. “I’m doing the only thing I know how to do!”

Regulus sighed heavily and leaned back against the brick. He was so tired. 

**  
  
**

**December 23rd, 1978**

**  
  
**

Although he was loath to admit it, Hogwarts was rather lonely without Severus there. Regulus had gotten used to his acerbic presence, and was caught off guard by how isolated he felt without him. He had no other friends to talk to, and while he exchanged the occasional letter with his mother, that hardly allowed him any commiserations. 

Meanwhile, the news from outside the castle walls was getting darker and darker every day. There were more deaths and more disappearances, all of which could be attributed to the Death Eaters Regulus knew, even if he hadn’t been participating in the raids. He had no news on his brother, good or bad, as there was no one around him that either cared to know or would tell him anything. Regulus was forced to take comfort in the fact that at least he hadn’t heard Sirius’ death announced. 

Now Regulus was at home for the Christmas holiday, though things hardly felt any brighter at Grimmauld Place. Regulus had mostly taken to hiding away in the library, reading and calling the family house-elf, Kreacher, for tea and biscuits. Still, all of this was preferable to being summoned by the Dark Lord, which is what happened two days before Christmas. 

Regulus had just finished dinner with his parents and was climbing up the stairs to his bedroom when he felt the burn on his arm. He clutched it with a hiss and stumbled hurriedly up the stairs to get his robes and mask. 

“Kreacher!” he called, fastening the black robes with clumsy fingers. 

Kreacher appeared with a crack. “Yes, Master Regulus?”

“I’ve been summoned. Please make my excuses to mother and father.”

The old house-elf bowed low. “Of course, Master Regulus.”

Regulus nodded, and in a swirl of black, disappeared from the Noble and Ancient House of Black. 

He arrived at a large estate that clearly belonged to the Malfoy family, judging by the name emblazoned on the wrought iron gate. Regulus was shown into a large drawing room by a nervous looking house-elf, and he was surprised to see that this was not a full-blown Death Eater meeting. There were only a select few here— Lucius of course, as well as Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers. Regulus held his mask loosely at his side, and approached the group just as Lucius was tucking a small leather-bound book into his robes. 

“My Lord,” Regulus murmured, dropping to one knee in front of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort waved a hand at the other followers. “Remember my words, and be sure to take care. You are dismissed.” He turned to Regulus then. “You may rise.”

Lucius and the others left the room, eyeing Regulus curiously as they went. He waited patiently for them to leave, his Occlumency shields up in full force. 

“Regulus, you have proven yourself quite eager to be useful, and now I have a task for you,” the Dark Lord drawled. 

“Of course, my Lord. What do you ask of me?” Regulus agreed, bowing slightly. 

The Dark Lord watched him carefully as he spoke. “Your family has a house-elf, do they not?”

**  
  
**

**March 27th, 1979**

**  
  
**

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Kreacher,” Regulus said to the house-elf. 

Kreacher nodded his head vigorously, his bat-like ears flopping. “Of course, Master Regulus.”

Regulus took a shaky breath before speaking. “The Dark Lord has asked for your assistance with an important task. You are to go to him and do as he commands, but when you are finished you must return immediately to me, understood? No matter what, you return directly to me.”

“Of course,” Kreacher croaked. “Kreacher is honored to help Master Regulus and his Dark Lord with their honorable work.”

“Very good, Kreacher,” Regulus sighed. “Then I will see you when you return.”

Kreacher bowed until his long nose touched the floor, and then he disappeared with a loud _crack_ , leaving Regulus alone in the library. He turned to an armchair in the corner and settled in with a few books to help pass the time. The Easter holiday was proving to be just as unpleasant as it always was, and Regulus had again spent as much time as possible in the library. At least this time he had a built-in excuse. N.E.W.T.s were only a couple of months away now, and he really did have to study. 

He was halfway through his potions essay when the loud crack of Kreacher reappearing startled him back to awareness. The elf was lying prone on the floor, wet and pale. Regulus all but fell out of his chair in his hurry to get to Kreacher’s side. He could see the house-elf’s chest moving with shallow breaths, but he was otherwise unresponsive when Regulus shook him. He swore under his breath and stood, racing to the bathroom on shaky legs. Yanking open the cabinet, he grabbed every potion that he thought might be helpful and ran back into the library. Regulus had to pry open Kreacher’s mouth, pouring a Pepper-Up Potion and a Resuscitation Elixir down his throat. After a handful of agonizing minutes, Kreacher coughed and sputtered, spitting up dark water. His eyes cracked open and fell on Regulus, and he reached a hand out toward him.

“Water,” Kreacher croaked. 

Regulus quickly conjured a glass. “ _Aguamenti,”_ he murmured, and the glass filled with crystal clear water. He held it to Kreacher’s lips, helping him drink until he had drained the glass. 

“More,” Kreacher said, his voice still hoarse. 

Regulus again conjured more water, and again Kreacher drank it all. This occurred several more times before the elf was finally able to sit up and focus his gaze on Regulus. 

“Master said to return to him no matter what, and so that’s what Kreacher did,” the house-elf said solemnly. 

A disbelieving laugh escaped from Regulus’ throat before he could tamp it down. “What happened, Kreacher?”

Kreacher turned even paler, and shook his head frantically. Eyes bulging, he looked for something to hit himself with. Regulus pinned Kreacher’s hands to his sides and shook him just hard enough to get his attention. 

“Kreacher, listen to me,” Regulus said firmly. “It’s very important that you tell me everything that happened with the Dark Lord tonight. That’s an order.”

**  
  
**

**June 17th, 1979**

**  
  
  
**

He was walking to his death. In this, Regulus was quite certain, and despite that, he was going to do it anyway. After the months of growing unease, the random comments from the Dark Lord himself, and now this recount from Kreacher, Regulus had put it all together into one horrifying picture. The Dark Lord had done the most unspeakable thing imaginable— he had created a Horcrux. The idea of a future with an unkillable, indestructible Dark Lord was a bleak one, and Regulus wished he had been smarter with his choices. While it was true that he never really believed that he had a choice, he now wished more than anything that he had looked a bit harder. There was no way out of the Death Eaters. One couldn’t simply leave. To leave was to betray him and to betray him was to die, and if Regulus was to die, he was going to do it trying to make things right.

All of this brought him to a cliff facing an angry ocean, below which was a cave according to Kreacher. Regulus turned to his house-elf now. “Take me down there.”

“Master Regulus, please,” Kreacher wailed, pulling on his ears in misery.

“You will do as I order you,” Regulus said sharply. 

Kreacher nodded despairingly and took Regulus by the wrist. A crack of sound later and they were no longer on the cliffside but inside the cave. The stone walls were damp with salt water and it was much cooler inside. Regulus looked around in confusion. There was nothing here, just a blank wall at the back. He turned to Kreacher, about to demand an answer when the elf spoke up.

“You have to give an offering of blood to pass through the enchantment,” the old elf said, pointing a gnarled finger at the stone. “That was how the Dark Lord did it.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Of course.” He stepped forward, making a small slash against his palm with his wand and pressing the wound against the rough stone.

The wall melted away in front of them, revealing a large space carved out of the stone. There was a dark lake of brackish water filling most of it, and dead center from that was a small island with what appeared to be a pedestal in the middle. Regulus healed his hand, and examined the rocky shore with a puzzled expression. He spotted a chain anchored into the rock that disappeared into the water and tugged on it. Little by little, a boat appeared from under the surface of the water. It was small, only just big enough for one person, which Regulus supposed was the point. He gestured to Kreacher to get inside and climbed in after the elf. 

“Master Regulus, whatever you do, don’t touch the water, sir,” Kreacher warned. “It’s filled with bad things, very bad things.” 

Regulus nodded. “I’m sure it is, Kreacher. I would expect nothing less.”

After rowing to the small island, Regulus got out of the boat, patting his pocket to make sure the locket was still there. When Kreacher had told him about the cave and the Horcrux, he knew he had to do his best to take it and destroy it, but the more time he bought himself, the better. This was why he had created a likeness of the original locket the Dark Lord had used— in the hopes that it wouldn’t be discovered right away. In the event that he made it out of here alive, he was going to need more time to plan his next step and determine whether or not there were more Horcruxes out there. The Dark Lord had always made it sound like he had multiple failsafes, and so Regulus didn’t believe he would have stopped at only one Horcrux.

He approached the pedestal centered on the island and looked down at a viscous bright green liquid. He couldn’t see the bottom of the basin, though he knew from Kreacher’s account that the locket lay there. 

“It must be drunk,” Kreacher whispered, and then immediately covered his mouth, shaking his head frantically. 

“I’m not going to make you drink it again, Kreacher,” Regulus told him reassuringly. 

Kreacher shook his head even more violently so that his ears flopped across his face. “It will kill you, Master Regulus! It is a vile drink!”

Regulus sighed and knelt down in front of the small elf. “Kreacher, I need you to listen to me very carefully and do exactly as I say, do you understand?”

Kreacher nodded. His eyes were very wide, but he didn’t dare disagree.

“Good,” Regulus said, taking him by the shoulders. “I am going to drink this potion, and you are going to make sure that I do it. I don’t care what I say or do once I start drinking it, you do not let me stop until we get that locket. And if you need to leave me here to save yourself, you do that, do you hear me? You leave and you take that evil locket with you. Destroy it if you can.”

Kreacher nodded again as tears trailed down his face. “Yes, Master Regulus.”

Regulus stood and conjured a goblet. He stared at the lime-green liquid for several moments before steeling his resolve and scooping some up. He tipped his head back and let it spill into his mouth. It was bitter, but not as unpleasant tasting as he expected it to be until he swallowed it and felt the burn of fire shoot through his body. He gasped and doubled over, waiting for the wave of pain to pass before refilling the goblet and drinking again. This time the fire surged through his body even more violently and he shuddered in agony. Regulus was barely aware of taking another drink, until the burning pain hit again. Then he saw his mother, and she was screaming at him.

 _“You are such a disappointment to this family, Regulus! You are not worthy of being called a Black! To think, I thought you would be the one to redeem us after your good for nothing brother sullied our family name,”_ she shrieked at him.

Regulus cringed and shook his head. “I’m doing what I must. You don’t understand!” More liquid fire poured down his throat and through the burning agony he saw his brother now.

 _“I was right about you, Reg. You are nothing but a slimy, Death Eater,”_ Sirius spat angrily. _“How could you believe that madman over your own brother? He means to kill us all!”_

“No, no,” Regulus moaned, covering his ears as if it would block out the hurt too. He was vaguely aware of being shaken and a voice telling him to drink and then more liquid poured down his throat. He screamed in pain this time. “No more! It burns! I need water!”

More reassuring words and more liquid but it was never water, just more lightning bolts of pain shooting through his limbs and parching his mouth. Soon he knew nothing but the burning pain and angry voices screaming in his head. He couldn’t make out much of his surroundings now, but there was one thing he could see. _Water._ That was what he needed— it would make everything better if he could just drink some water. He crawled hurriedly to the shore, batting away a frail hand trying to pull him back. _Couldn’t they see that he needed water?_

First there was the cool relief of water soothing his burning insides and then there were hands on him, so many hands, all pulling him down. He had regained a bit of awareness from the water, but it came too late. He was being pulled further down by the inferi and he was too weak to stop them. Regulus walked into this knowing it would likely be his death, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He had one last trick up his sleeve, one that he had hidden from everyone. It had been nothing more than a secret bragging right at the beginning— he had never expected it to be this useful, but with one final burst of his magic, he transformed, and the raccoon slipped easily through the grasp of the inferi where his human form had not been able to.

**  
  
**

**June 19th 1979**

**  
  
**

Regulus stood on the street outside Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the hood of his black sweatshirt pulled up over his head and hanging low enough to cover part of his face. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black denim jeans as he watched the front of the house. It was his birthday, or it would have been if he were still thought to be alive. Instead of any celebration however, he watched his parents leave the house in mourning wear, heading to a funeral where there would be no body. He never thought he would be spending his adult years hiding among Muggles, and yet here he was. Once the coast was clear, he trotted up the steps to the front door, unlocking it with a quick wave of his wand. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and called out for Kreacher.

The house-elf appeared with a crack and fell to his knees the moment he saw Regulus before him. “Master Regulus, you are dead!” he wailed. “Kreacher couldn’t save you! Kreacher is so sorry, Master!”

Regulus knelt in front of the distraught elf and shook him gently. “Kreacher, I’m not dead. You did exactly what I asked of you and I am eternally grateful for that.”

Kreacher stopped crying and looked up at him with big watery eyes. “Not dead?” he asked, rising unsteadily to his feet.

“Not dead,” Regulus agreed. “But I do need to ask for your help one last time.”

Kreacher bowed as low as his aged spine would allow him. “Anything for Master Regulus.”

Regulus smiled sadly at him. “Thank you, Kreacher. Do you still have that locket?”

Kreacher disappeared and then reappeared in quick succession, holding the locket out to him. “I tried to destroy it like Master said, but I could not.”

Regulus took the locket from his hands, and caught them as well when Kreacher looked like he would beat himself. “It’s fine, Kreacher. I can take care of it now.”

Kreacher nodded, looking relieved. “Anything else I can do for Master Regulus?”

“As a matter a fact, yes,” Regulus answered. “Could you run up to my room and get my coin purse for me? I’d rather not travel too far inside the house.”

“Of course, sir,” Kreacher said, and was back in a flash holding the purse. 

Regulus took it and smiled at the old elf. “Thank you, Kreacher. I am indebted to you.” He pulled his wand from his pocket again and pointed it at Kreacher. _“Obliviate.”_

**  
  
  
  
  
**


End file.
